Imperceptible
by Snowflake Flower
Summary: Angsty DG. “Are you seriously telling me that if I had crashed your wedding ceremony, you’d have eloped with me?” Ginny was silent. But then, there was the faintest, “I might’ve.”
1. Like Clockwork HHr

**Like Clockwork**

No one notices it. No one ever notices it but her.

Ginny supposed it was because she was always watching Harry. Always noticing the prowl in his silent steps as he made a round around the house, as if expecting a Death Eater to pop up from behind the sofa and fire a killing curse at him. Always detecting the slight tension in his shoulders whenever a startling noise sprang up, or an unexpected hand clapped down on his shoulder. His hand always flew to the pocket of his jeans where he kept his wand, like clockwork.

Ginny just noticed.

Harry caught her staring sometimes too, a grin settling over his lips as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, asking her what was so interesting.

"_You,_" she would always answer with a cheeky tone, her grin highlighting the freckles that dotted her face, red hair vibrant against his black locks. He would laugh nervously, amused and touched by her answer, but the slight blush on his face always indicated his obvious embarrassment. He would duck his head down, trying to hide his coloured cheeks, and Ginny would quickly change the subject, sensing his uneasiness.

But then, then Ginny would see him in her brother's backyard with their children (_their_ wonderful, beautiful, red-haired, black-haired, brown-eyed, green-eyed children) playing with Rose and Hugo (_not_ their children), chasing them around the grassy green field. They would be playing the muggle game (tag?) and Harry was always 'it'. He would chase the children around for a long time, feigning exhaustion after awhile and collapsing onto the ground with overdramatic gasps of air. And the children would moan and whine in complaint, wanting to continue the game. They would draw closer to him, eyes shining as they knew, _knew_, exactly what he was going to do, but sneaked closer anyways. And once they were close enough, he would spring up, tickling one of them in the ribs, shouting "_you're it!_" before leaping away, the rakish grin never leaving his face. The 'not it' players would scream at the top of their lungs, running away as the person who was 'it' came rushing after them. And it didn't matter how loud the screams were, because Ginny would always hear it.

_Her_ laugh. Not particularly high-pitched and not even close to sounding melodious or musical. It didn't sound like the delicate tinkling of bells, or the sweet chirp of a songbird. It didn't infect others with its contagious sound, or make heads swivel at the happy ring in its tone. It was just a laugh.

And yet… Harry's head swivelled at the sound of it, a great grin breaking across his face and threatening to open and laugh as well. He would smile a toothy smile, rising from his low crouch and crossing his arms as if miffed about the sudden laughter. His face would morph into a scowl, as if trying to intimidate the person. But Ginny would notice the slight twitching of his lips, betraying his urge to smile again.

"_What are you laughing at?_" he would ask, time and time again (like clockwork). And Ginny would turn her head now from her spot under the tree, catching sight of her brother's wife standing in the entrance of the backyard, leaning against the doorframe. Her hair was wild around her face – _bushy_ as many of her friends called it. There was a sparkle in her brown eyes, arms fold neatly at her stomach as she grinned (cheekily) at Harry.

"_You._"

And Ginny noticed. She noticed Harry's face light up even more at her words, dropping into a light crouch as he regarded his other best friend carefully and deviously. Ginny would hear him ask her (not her, his wife Ginevra Potter, but _her_, his other best friend, his best mate's wife, his—) "_Oh? Well who's laughing now?_" before he sprang at her on his quick-as-lightning feet, barely missing her as she darted away into the backyard, screeching at the top of her lungs.

Ginny would watch them, a strangely resigned feeling in her chest as she noticed how Harry tackled her to the ground, laughing heartily as his nimble fingers danced across her ribs. The children would hear her giggles, Rose and Hugo rushing over to retaliate on their uncle and to rescue their mum. But her children (_her _children) would defend their father (_her_ husband) by attacking their aunt, causing her to wriggle away, laughing and squealing. And once the children had tired, and the adults had tired, they would all collapse against each other in the colourful glow of the sunset, sinking to the grassy floor for a quick rest.

And like clockwork, Harry would always collapse against _her_, still chuckling softly at his chin rested against the top of her wild (_bushy_) hair. That was how they stayed, until one-by-one the children started rising, whining about the hunger pains in their stomach as they tugged at whatever article of clothing they could reach.

Ginny would watch them as they rose, noticing – _noticing_ – Harry's large hand on the small of _her_ (not Ginny, but _her_) back as he led her inside for dinner. And it was only once he reached the doorway, gently nudging _her_ in first, that he would suddenly remember her. Not _her_, his other best friend, his best mate's wife. But her; Ginny. He would finally remember her, sitting alone in the backyard, resting under a tree as she watched and noticed, and watched and noticed.

"_Are you coming, Gin?_" he would ask, starting towards her when she looked content to just sit in the shade of the tree, a cool breeze rustling the leaves on the branches. She would nod, not knowing what else to say as she slowly began to rise, her brown eyes never leaving his figure as he neared. "_What are you looking at?_" he asked, coming close enough to stand beside her as she straightened. And Ginny would look up into his face, trailing her eyes along its handsome contours, memorizing them for what she knew was soon to come as she replied,

"_You._"

Her tone was cheeky. She was grinning, leaning closer to his body as she stared up at him, hoping – _hoping_ – her brown eyes were sparkling. And, like clockwork, Harry would laugh his nervous laugh. His head would duck down, hiding the blush that spread across his cheeks in embarrassment, a little flustered and confused as he wondered how to reply. But Ginny saved him from that awkwardness (because _she _had saved Harry numerous times before, and Ginny was his wife so why couldn't Ginny do the same?), commenting loudly on how she was hungry and couldn't wait to eat dinner, grabbing his hand to tug him inside.

And Ginny would notice. She would notice his hand slip out of hers as they reached the doorway, stepping inside to welcome the warm air of the house. She would notice her brother's wife trying in vain to open a jar of pickles, and Ginny would notice Harry reaching out to her, his hand settling assuredly over _hers_. Lingering, as if wanting to hold on a little longer than he should.

And then Ginny would look at her own hand, and wonder.

She would wonder about Harry and _her_ time alone during the Horcrux hunt. (Ginny never called it _their_ time alone, because that belonged to Harry and Ginny, husband and wife, not Harry and _her_, best friends and in-laws.) She would wonder about the 'what ifs', and the 'could haves'. About the lingering touches and happier smiles. The absolute certainty set in his shoulders when he entered a house, and _she_ was there. Ginny would wonder about the not clockwork-like and yet completely clockwork-like behaviour Harry had around _her_.

But then Ginny would notice the gleaming diamond ring on her hand, snugly resting on the finger beside her pinky. She would notice the beauty of it, the way it fit her perfectly, like it was _made_ for her (because really, it was). She would remember the symbol of its existence, what it represented. She would remember why it was there.

_Ginevra Potter._

And she would breathe a sigh of relief. She would cradle her left hand to her heart, closing her eyes and thanking Merlin that nothing could take this away from her.

Because Harry married _her_. Not his other best friend, his best mate's wife, or his sister-in-law. _Ginny _was the one with the Potter surname. She held all the fortune that came with that bloodline, all the prestige and fame that came with being _the_ Harry Potter's wife. She was the one he went home to, the last face he saw before he went to sleep every night and the first face he saw in the morning. It didn't matter who _she_ was to Harry. Because Ginny was the one he chose. _Ginny_ was the woman he'd dedicated and vowed the rest of his life to. And Harry would honour that vow with every last breath.

And her hand would drop from her heart, dangling uselessly at her side as she watched and noticed, and watched and noticed. (Harry jokingly struggling with the jar, grinning happily – _too _happily – at the normal, unmelodious laughter before his face set in a scowl, lips twitching—)

Ginny may not hold his heart, not like Hermione Weasley. But Ginny held everything else, and that was enough.

(—just like clockwork.)

* * *

_A/N _The first of four oneshots all dedicated around the epilogue of HP. I disagree with the canon pairings, so I'm attempting to fit my preferred pairings into the canon plotline using as much angst as possible.

Yes? No? Well, I don't care. I'll write what I want anyways. :3

Snowflake Flower


	2. Like Mother, Like Daughter DG

**Like Mother, Like Daughter**

"I still don't understand why you're going."

Hermione rolled her eyes and she wrapped her filmy shawl around her shoulders, its midnight blue colour blending into the black of her strapless cocktail dress.

"For Merlin's sake, Ron, it's just a party; not a Death Eater gathering."

"Well with _his_ sort inviting you, it might as well be."

Hermione just sighed exasperatedly, fastening on a pair of diamond earrings before grabbing her clutch bag and exiting the room. Ron followed her, clad in a pair of black sweats and a red t-shirt. They trudged down the stairs, and Hermione could hear two more voices in the living room arguing in much the same way she and Ron were, only with louder voices and more cursing.

"It's pointless, Ginny! Who the hell throws a dinner party to discuss a bunch of bloody wedding plans?"

"In case you haven't noticed, _Harry_, it's your _daughter_ whose wedding plans we're bloody well discussing!"

Hermione turned the corner to enter the living room, hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene of Harry and Ginny glaring furiously at each other. Ginny was clad in formal witch's robes that were a deep scarlet, too dark to match her more vibrant red hair that fell askew over her face. Hermione guessed she would be the only one wearing muggle clothing at the party, and figured she'd prefer it that way. Ticking Lucius Malfoy off was a known pastime of any member of the Potter-Weasley family.

"Honestly, you're both such children!" Hermione exclaimed as Ron trailed in after her, looking glum. "I thought we agreed to put our differences with the Malfoy's aside, and yet here the both of you are, sulking when we've decided to graciously accept a visit to their manor," she lectured, walking to stand beside Ginny and display a united front.

"I may have put my differences aside for Lily, but that doesn't mean I can trust the Malfoy's as far as I can throw them," Harry mumbled, and Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Besides, you know I'd go with you, but I have to head a meeting at the Auror Department. Which reminds me," Harry turned to Ron, eyebrow raised. "Why aren't you dressed?"

Ron shrugged. "I was trying to talk Hermione out of eternal doom. She didn't listen to me." Harry nodded, as if sympathizing with his best mate. Ginny made a noise of disgust, and Hermione rolled her eyes for the third time that night. She grabbed Ginny's hand, reaching out with her other one to fetch some floo powder.

"We're leaving," she informed them, depositing half the magical powder in Ginny's open palm. "Harry, good luck at the meeting," Hermione said, kissing him briefly on the cheek. Her lips tingled at the contact, but she (as usual) pushed it aside to kiss her husband (Ron Weasley, who was the love of her life because if he wasn't she obviously wouldn't have married him right?) on the lips. "Try not to get yourselves in trouble, alright?"

Letting the question be left unanswered, Hermione stepped towards the fireplace and threw the floo powder in, calling out 'Malfoy Manor!' as she stepped through.

...

...

...**  
**

"—see? Here they come now."

Hermione coughed a bit as she stepped out of the ashes, shaking her head to get them out of her bushy hair. Straightening up, the muggleborns caught sight of Scorpius Malfoy and her niece Lily Luna Potter standing there, waiting for them. With a little smile, Hermione steps forward to envelope Lily in a hug.

"Hello, Lily. How are you holding up?" she asked, referring to having to mix with the rather pompous Malfoy family (Scorpius excluded… to an extent). Lily smiled weakly, shrugging her shoulders in a non-descript way as she leaned into Scorpius, whose arm was wrapped comfortingly around her shoulder.

"As well as can be expected, Aunt Hermione," Lily answered, her red hair twisted up in an elegant bun. Her robes, like her mother's, were dark red, but highlighted with gold. The young witch had obviously thought it befitting to display her House Pride, despite having graduated from Hogwarts already. And it was in that moment that Hermione was struck with the thought that Lily was very much like her mother, almost to the point of being clones.

"Scorpius, how are you dear?" Hermione asked as she heard the fire roar behind her, signaling Ginny's entrance into the manor. Lily briefly left the sanctuary of her fiancé's arm to greet her mother. Scorpius looked a bit uncomfortable, but smiled despite it all and nodded his head politely.

"I'm very well, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for asking," he replied, to which Hermione blushed a little at being called 'Mrs. Weasley'. Everyone just called her Hermione at her insistence, but Scorpius thought it prudent to adhere to the more formal customs. It unsettled Hermione a bit, being called a Weasley despite marrying into the family many, many years ago. She rationalized it was because she was always headstrong about women's rights, and as such always subconsciously referred to herself as a Granger. (Not because she didn't want to be a Weasley. Oh, of course not. She was perfectly content with being a Weasley… despite not being perfectly _happy._)

"Erm… if you don't mind my asking," Scorpius continued, gesturing to her dress, "is there a reason why you wished to forgo the traditional witch's robes?"

Hermione grinned saucily as she winked at Scorpius.

"Oh no particular reason, Scorpius. But tell me; don't you think your granddad would just love it?"

Scorpius smiled despite himself.

Behind her, Hermione heard the tell-tale sign of Ginny becoming extremely irritated, evident in her rather cross tone as she told Lily that her father had an auror meeting and, evidently, couldn't make it. Hermione then matched it with Lily's own frustrated tone as she complained, "Daddy _always_ has something to do! If it's not a meeting, it's a conveniently sudden mission that requires his immediate attention." Huffing, Lily crossed her arms over her chest and fumed, Scorpius stepping forward to wrap a comforting arm around her.

"He _did_ come to the engagement party," the Malfoy supplied somewhat uselessly.

"And _sulked_ the entire way through!" Scorpius opened his mouth to speak, but Lily cut him off, proclaiming loudly, "Don't defend him, Scorpius! You _know_ he was only pretending when he said he was glad I was marrying you." That prompted Scorpius to sigh in defeat, falling silent to avoid his fiancée's rather explosive tempers (very like another certain female redhead).

"Ah, just as I suspected," a lazy voice drawled from the doorway. "I thought the house was a bit too noisy to be void of guests."

Hermione stiffened, eyeing Ginny who didn't seem so much to tense up, but go blank. It wasn't long before Hermione turned around, seeing Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway with a hand casually stuffed in his pocket. His platinum blonde hair wasn't slicked back for once, falling rather softly around his face as he regarded the occupants of the room with (surprisingly) no amount of malice. A smirk curled one corner of his lips up as his wife, Astoria Malfoy, appeared behind him. "Weasley, Granger," He greeted shortly. Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she didn't notice Ginny's morph into one of fury.

"_Potter_," the older redhead spit out as she stepped forward. "It's Ginny _Potter_, not Weasley." She paused here, before her eyes fell back into their former apathy. "I stopped being a Weasley a long time ago." And Hermione looked at her, a bit surprised at the tinge of regret that came with Ginny's sentence, before remembering the older Malfoy had addressed her wrongly as well.

"And I'm not a Granger anymore either," she said, Ginny turning to look at her. Hermione wondered if the redhead detected the hint of doubt that came with her sentence. But Draco Malfoy just shrugged in that elegantly causal way of his, turning his body to the side to motion them into the next room, where his wife was bustling around.

"Why don't you join us in the den? Astoria's setting up some tea as we speak." The four of them didn't need any more incentive, Scorpius and Lily going first as they both squeezed through the door. Hermione entered next, making sure not to cringe when Malfoy (the older one) eyed her muggle clothes with something close to curiosity and disdain. Ginny was last, and if Hermione had turned around she would have noticed the redhead pause briefly while passing by Draco, whispering something harshly under her breath.

But Hermione just sat down in an armchair, turning her head just to see Ginny stomp up to the chair beside Hermione, plopping down in it while Draco strode further into the room with a smirk on his face.

"My dad won't be here tonight," Draco announced as he eased into a chair with a tall back (obviously the chair only the head of the house would be allowed to sit in). "Mother's coming soon, however, so you ladies can quickly go ahead with your little planning party." At the mention of Lucius' absence, Hermione mentally sulked. She would've liked to see the pureblood's reaction to her muggle dress.

"Grandmum thought it would be better to have dinner in here, as opposed to the formal dining room," Scorpius spoke up, nestled in the couch with Lily cuddling into him. "There's more space in here to sketch out notes and such, and granddad can't complain if he skives out." Astoria shot a stern look at her son, who just grinned and shrugged. Draco, however, chuckled at his son's bluntness before addressing the house elf who cracked in.

"The Missis Narcissa Malfoy has arrive, Misters Draco Malfoy sir," he squeaked, causing Hermione to simmer with anger at the house elf enslavement rampant in the Malfoy household. But she bit down her complaints, noticing no bruising or evidence of abuse in the house elf, and allowed the Malfoy's the benefit of the doubt.

With the house elf's announcement, the door to the den opened, and an elderly Narcissa Malfoy glided in. She was wearing formal robes as well, so the lot of them didn't look too out of place in the otherwise more casual setting. Her gaze swept over the room, falling upon Hermione and her muggle clothes. A brief flash of annoyance and contempt went through her eyes, but it was easily masked over pleasant politeness as she nodded to everyone in the room.

"Good evening grandmum," Scorpius greeted, and Draco rose to greet his mother with a kiss on both cheeks.

"Evening, mum," Draco greeted, guiding his mother to another chair for her to sit down. If she seemed irritated at her son handling her in a delicate way when she was very capable of still doing many things by herself, Narcissa didn't show it. Instead, she patted his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

"Good evening Scorpius, Draco." Narcissa turned to Lily, smiling politely. "Lily, Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione tried to detect any hint of malice in the pureblood's tone as she addressed her, but heard none and found herself impressed. Obviously this pureblood had either revised her ways, or was an incredibly disciplined woman. "Shall we get started?" The elderly Malfoy asked, before snapping her fingers and making a ton of food appear on the table.

Having experienced this only at Hogwarts, Hermione was a little surprised. But then she remembered the use of house elves, and their job at Hogwarts, and suddenly it wasn't so surprising. Ginny seemed to come to the same conclusion, and it wasn't long before all of them had full plates and were heartily discussing Lily and Scorpius' wedding plans.

"Mum would insist to have it at the Burrow," Ginny stated matter-of-factly, and Lily brightened at the idea of having her wedding in her grandparent's home. But Narcissa twisted her face in disagreement.

"Surely we could find a larger venue to accommodate so many guests," the pureblood suggested. "We wouldn't want to impose." But Ginny was adamant on the subject, forcing a smile on her face as she replied to the matron of the Malfoy family. (Hermione could sense the anger bubbling under Ginny's skin faster than she could placate Ron's stomach with food.)

"It's no trouble, really," Ginny said, trying to force it out to sound polite. "My older brother and his wife had their wedding in my mother's home; it was splendid, really." Up until the point when it was crashed by Death Eater's and her, Harry, and Ron had to run off, Hermione thought. But she thought it best not to voice that aloud at the moment. "In fact," Ginny continued, her voice going a little higher and sounding a bit more shrilly (sort of like Hermione's voice when she got angry, but so much more intimidating), "it's a downright tradition! Every Weasley in the family was married at the Burrow, _including_ my niece who married my husband's godson."

At the mention of Harry, Ginny seemed to shoot a brief glance at Hermione, but for what reason Hermione never really figured out. That was partially because she couldn't remember the instance after Draco suddenly stood up, eyeing Ginny with a perfectly apathetic look.

"Maybe you should go freshen up in the loo," he suggested, shoving a hand in his pocket. "I'd rather like to keep this little planning party hex-free." Ginny's face turned a furious, embarrassed red, but acquiesced with the older Malfoy's suggestion and quickly exited the room. "I'll show you the way," Draco tacked on, following her out the door and closing it before she could protest.

Wondering faintly at that, Hermione turned to see Lily looking a little more than worried, Scorpius trying his best to calm her down. If it wasn't for his arm around her shoulder and his hand on her knee, Hermione had a slight suspicion that Ginny's daughter would have sped off after her mother. She did not seem as affected by Narcissa's comment on venue locations, and Hermione knew that was a side she drew from her father, as opposed to her mother. (And Hermione didn't know why, but she somehow didn't like that Lily had aspects of Ginny and Harry inside her.)

"I think I have a bit of need to freshen up myself," Hermione said, rising with her clutch grasped in her hand. She sent Lily a comforting smile, and quickly exited out the door to search for Ginny and Draco and hope they didn't go far.

So it was just her surprise when she saw them pressed against each other smack in the middle of a dark hallway.

Silently (because she's had lots and lots of practice in her youth), Hermione stepped back to lean against the wall, out of sight. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, and she was glad she decided to cast a silencing spell on her heels. (Making loud noises in an echo-y, empty hallway just unsettled her too much.) Hermione didn't dare look back out to take a peek, able to pick up all the information she needed just from sound alone.

"No!" Ginny cried, and there was a brief scuffle that sounded like Ginny pushing Draco away. "No… I – I can't." Her voice was quivering, as if close to tears. "Draco, this is wrong. You _know_ this is wrong. You're married to Astoria, and I'm married to—"

"Harry bloody Potter, I know. You've made that very clear." There was disgust in his voice, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was the mention of his arch-rival, or the idea that Ginny had rejected him for Harry. "But you can't deny this, Ginny. It doesn't matter anymore who you're married to; I'm not going to stop loving you."

The declaration brought an outward gasp from Ginny, and a carefully stifled one from Hermione.

"You… no, _no_, that's not fair!" Ginny shouted suddenly, and Hermione was sure now that Ginny was crying. "You never said it before but now… _now_ you suddenly decide to tell me?! When our kids are getting bloody _married_?!" There was a rustle of clothing, before Ginny cried out, "Don't touch me!" and the sound of flesh cracking against flesh echoed in the dim hallway.

"It was now, or never." Draco said after a moment's silence. "I lost my chance back in seventh year; you know that."

"And what about all the other times, huh?!" Ginny exclaimed. "What about the day of my wedding? I _sent_ you an invitation, you pompous git!" Hermione shivered a little as she thought about Ginny sending Draco _Malfoy_ an invitation to her wedding to Harry, almost expecting him to show up and declare to the priest exactly why she couldn't marry a man who deserved far more than to be left standing at the altar alone.

"Are you seriously telling me that if I had crashed your wedding ceremony, you'd have eloped with me?"

Ginny was silent. But then, there was the faintest, "I might've."

Draco scoffed, almost seeming to pace as his dress shoes made sounds along the floor. "You and I both know who you would've picked, _Ginevra_." Her name was spat from his lips like venom from snakes. "We're not compatible, you and I. We would've killed each other after the first five minutes of marriage."

"You don't know that!" Ginny replied heatedly, only to deflate at Draco's, "Don't I?"

"So what, this is it?" Ginny asked after another moment's silence.

"Yeah," Draco replied. "It is."

And it was in that strange silence, when Hermione was brave enough to peek around the corner, that she came upon a scene vaguely similar to one she encountered only minutes ago. But for some reason, this embracing of Draco Malfoy and Ginny Potter was… different. Unlike the first scene, where it was passion and aggression, urgency and longing, this scene was gentler, softer, sweeter, and yet more bitter than anything Hermione had ever experienced.

It was also in that moment that Hermione almost decided it was Scorpius and Lily in that dark hallway, and not her best friend's wife, and her niece's fiancé's father.

As Hermione walked back a bit towards the direction she came from, cancelling the silencing spell on her heels to alert the two star-crossed lovers to her impending presence, the muggleborn thought back to Lily and Scorpius in the den. She thought of two people cuddled up to one another, quietly discussing wedding plans with parents and grandparents. She thought of blonde and red strands entwined in holy matrimony, of pale skin and freckled faces pressed against each other. She thought of red-haired, gray-eyed daughters, and blonde-haired, brown-eyed sons. She thought of the 'what if's', and 'could have's'.

"Oh, Ginny! There you are; I wanted to join you to go freshen up in the loo."

She thought of the 'have done's' and 'should be's'.


End file.
